Because My Sons Won't
by Just-Caro
Summary: Splinter goes to the corner store. He meets an unexpected fate.


**Disclaimer: When I own TMNT, I'll let you know.**

_A__uthor's Note: Let's see... this is my take on Splinter's thoughts on his sons before he dies an unexpected death. It's a slight crossover and it's supposed to be a one shot, but I could make into a chappie fic later on._

_Anyway..._

_Happy Reading!_

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A figure walked along the street, his straw hat tipped lower to cover his face. He wore a long tan trench coat that met his feet and was fastened securely with the collar popped. It was lucky it was a chilly night or he'd have to come up with a pretty neat excuse as to why he had flower printer mitten covering his hands with a pair of bright yellow rain boots to finish it off. All in all the shady figure was an odd sight as he moved past straggled pedestrians before dashing into a corner store.

"Ah, welcome again, Splinter." The Israeli man behind the register, leaned over the counter to greet his weekly Sunday night customer as he entered. His middle eastern accent laced over his English. "How are the boys?"

"Still rambunctious as ever, Mister Abu." came the reply. The costumed rat, reached over for a basket.

"Why do you dress accordingly?" Abu asked, pointing to the dazzled outfit that Master Splinter was wearing. "If I didn't know any better, I would assume you were here to rob me."

Splinter chuckled, "I have no need of robbing, Mister Abu. These are just for precautionary reasons. I musn't be seen."

"As you have said the last thousand times you were here, my old friend." Abu sighed, then he waved a tired hand."Carry on with your shopping."

The elderly rat, nodded his head and began down the aisle of frozen goods. Those healthy choice entrees' were spectacular and went nicely well with tea, he had to stop with those pizza pies his sons devoured. They were not good for the arteries.

Once he deposited four selected tv dinners, he moved towards the back to grab a gallon of milk when he noticed a young boy in the far corner by the candy rack.

"I assume you are to pay for that?" he asked, coming up behind the boy.

The boy flushed, he seemed no older than eleven years old. "I- I.. I was gonna.. My bros - they... dared me to..." he stared at the ground, appealingly not knowing what else to say. Then he took notice of the boots. "Yo, crazy outfit, old man. what are you wearin'? Didja not look in the mirror or somethin'?"

Master Splinter clapped him upside the hide with his walking stick that he had hidden beneath his trench coat. (My grandma does that to me all the time) "That is not the way to address your elders, young man. Now, you have one of two choices, either you return what you have taken or I notify the authorities."

At the threat of calling the cops, the boy put back his stolen goods without a fuss. "There." he said, in a tone much like his youngest son, Michelangelo.

"You made a wise choice." Master Splinter praised, "Go on, leave and tell your brothers they are not really your brothers for daring you to do such things if they cannot do it themselves."

The boy smiled slightly and walked out of the store.

"You handled that very well." Abu said from the counter. "I have been having trouble with that one lately. I do not have the heart to call the police, however."

"Children just need a hand of guidance in the right direction." Master Splinter said, "Although, having four boys of your own helps gain experience as well." the clothed rat smiled to himself, thinking of his kame sons back home, most probably waiting up for him when they should all be in bed.

It was a strange thought for a rat, a mutated rat that is to father four young turtles in the sewers of New York City. Splinter would never had seen this future coming from him in the days where he was housed under his Master Yoshi's care. It was by chance he came across the four younglings splattered with genetic green which turned him into what he and his sons were today. The growth and development had come along pretty fast and in a few weeks it was as though they were living like a normal - or however you view normal- family.

Each of his sons were named after the Renascence artists that he had found in a discarded magazine. Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello and Michelangelo, but each held their own personality, contrasting against the others. Master Splinter trained them in the secret arts of ninjitsu, which was something he picked up from his own Master when he was a mere rat. He trained them in an old subway station in the sewers, training them for only one purpose - protection. It was an only chance of survival if they were to ever be found out by the dwellers up above.

His oldest son, Leonardo, was his most dedicated pupil in the arts of ninjitsu. Harnessing a strong sense of leadership and determination, he dubbed Leonardo as the leader. It was his hope that his younger sons would fall into line and take a note off of their big brother. Leonardo had the control and focus, therefore earning his twin katanas. Those katanas were his most prized possession the moment he received them. The handle wrapped in blue cloth, the same color as his bandana. The color represented every aspect of Leonardo - Importance, Confidence, Honor and his respect for his family.

It was a different situation with Raphael. His second son was enveloped in a world of rage and anger. He'd rather throw a punch than talk it out. The contrast in his and Leonardo's personality often clashed, leading to heated arguments that often ended on a bad note. Although, Raphael held a strong, fierce passion for ninjitsu, taking his training as seriously as Leonardo just not as much. For the compassion of the ninja ways, Master Splinter chose a pair of sai for his red banded son to wield. As expected, those weapons were the joy and pride of his temperamental son. He was never seen without them hooked on his belt.

As for Donatello, it was difficult to decide upon a weapon for him. His son had a soft and mellow attitude and although he took his training to heart, he did not hold a great passion for it. As the genius family, Donatello often hid out in his lab, hankering with one thing or another whether it was something for the family or a destroyed object that needed repair. In opposite to Raph, he rather use words than battle it out, but if worse came to worse he would beat down an enemy if need be. Thus, in the end Master Splinter picked out a simple, but reliable bo staff for his passive son. The soothing purple of his bandana matching the cloth wrapped around the wooden staff. He could remember the vivid grin on his son's face and it showed how much he treasure his weapon by how he handled it with such care.

The youngest of them all was Michelangelo, the wild one. Michelangelo had an optimistic view on life, always seeing the bottle as half full. His childlike innocence and playful spirit earned the extra protection from three oldest. Sometimes, his overwhelming personality spiked with enthusiasm and wisecracks clouded his line of vision away from his training. He had a wandering mind, which had Master Splinter on edge, but his youngest son proved to be a spectacular student with his acrobats and agility. It was upon this discovery that he presented a pair for his orange clad son. They required a high skill to master, but Michelangelo perfected them with ease and often referred to them as 'his babies.'

Master Splinter smiled fondly at the memories of his sons and picked out a bottle of shampoo. He was running, but he paused noticing some dyes. The old rat wondered if it would a wise idea to try and color his hair as Michelangelo had point out a few patches of grey hair growing in.

_Bzz..Bzz..Bzz.._

Reaching into his trench coat, Master Splinter pulled out the electronic devices his sons used to communicate with. His whiskers twitched as he pressed numerous bottons on the phone. "How on earth do I work this contraption." he muttered, "I do not - "

"Master Splinter, you've already turned it on." Leonardo's voice came from the speaker.

Master Splinter pressed the phone to his ear, "Is everything alright, my son. Why have you called?"

"The frickin' power went out!" Raphael snarled. "I told Mikey not to leave his light on all the time!"

"It's not like we pay bills anyway, Raph!" Michelangelo objected. It sounded as though he were farther away.

Master Splinter sighed, "Where is Donatello."

"He went to go check the power box." Leonardo answered.

"I shall be back momentarily," Master Splinter replied, knowing fully well his sons called to check up on him.

"Tell him to bring pizza!" Michelangelo yelled. Whap. "Ow... Donnie!"

Master Splinter chuckled, "I'll see what I -"

The corner store door opened and the bells rang alerting to a new customer. It was too late for a regular shopper. Master Splinter turned around to see the two foot soldiers dressed all in black, their weapons out.

"Get behind the register! Now!"

He grasped the found between his fingers. Donatello would most likely have taken out his weapon, but not attack yet only waiting for his brothers actions. Michelangelo would say some joke whilst pulling out his weapons and urge for an order. Leonardo and Raphael would go on the offensive. Raphael would whip out his sai and strike first.. Leonardo would unsheathe his katanas and confront them, giving them a chance to just walk out the way they came before they were taken out by him and his brothers.

" Did you hear what he said? Move! Move!" the other shouted.

Master Splinter went into action, dropping the basket and phone with the cries of his sons calling him back. He dashed at the first foot, the sword out his hand, but when he tried to disarm the other, the first foot pulled out a surprise weapon, a gun.

_Bang!_

A flare of pain pierced his back and Splinter hurled to the ground.

"Splinter," Abu gasped, seeing the form of his friend before a bullet was lodged in his shoulder and hip. He fell to the ground.

A trap it was and it was for him. Master Splinter struggled to sit up, his straw hat forgotten on the

floor beside him, revealing his form.

The foot soldier narrowed his eyes, raising the gun and pointing it at him with a steady hand.

"May the Lord forgive you." he said to the two stray foot staring them in the eye as the first aimed and fired once, and then again. He fell silently to the ground, the last sound were the surprising loud shouts of his sons on the phone on the other side of the store.

" _because my sons won't."_ was the last thought he had before he went into darkness.

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_What do you think? Reviews are welcome!_

Signed,  
Caro


End file.
